Fear Based Responses : Epiphany
by Remma
Summary: Blair comes to a sudden realization about his relationship with Jim, but what should he do about it? This story is pre-slash, so if that offends you, don't read it.


Epiphany  
  
by Remma  
  
Blair hurried down the stairs, the reports clutched tightly to his chest. He had been quick with his offer to deliver them to records, hoping for another chance to persuade his favourite filing clerk to consider dating him. He was in luck, spotting the tall, bubbly blonde immediately.  
  
"Hey, Darla, you're looking particularly lovely today."   
  
"Blair, that's so sweet, why can I never get a man like you."  
  
"You can get a man like me, in fact, you can get me."  
  
"I wish."  
  
"No, really, I'm easy...ask anyone."  
  
"Oh, Blair, you're so funny."  
  
"Really? I wasn't trying to be. Darla, don't you want to go out with me?"  
  
"Sure, I'd love to, but I don't think I'm really your type."  
  
"What do you mean? You're smart, beautiful, sexy...in what way could you not be my type?"  
  
"I'm not a six foot two, drop dead gorgeous cop with a body Michelangelo would kill to sculpt."  
  
"Huh? Oh, I get it...I think we have a crossed wire. Jim is my roommate, that's all. You know, it's surprising how many people think we're an item."  
  
"Oh, I wonder why?"  
  
"No, really, we're just good friends."  
  
"Blair, come on, I have good friends, but *I* don't live with them, socialise with them, work with them, talk about them ad nauseam...I mean, do you have *any* idea how often his name crops up in your conversation?"  
  
"I may mention him now and then, but..."  
  
"Try every other sentence. And if you're not talking about him, you're talking *to* him. If you're away from him for more than an hour or so, you're phoning him to check in, or he's calling you. Trust me, Blair, that is *not* your average friendship."  
  
"So we're close, it doesn't mean we're..."  
  
"You may not be sleeping with him yet, but don't tell me it's never crossed your mind. I've seen the way you look at him, like he was the last cookie in the jar. Not that I blame you, that guy is *hot*."  
  
"No..."  
  
"You don't think he's hot?"  
  
"No...I meant, sure he's hot, but I'd never...and even if I did, he's not, so he wouldn't...and anyway..."  
  
"I wouldn't be too sure of that. He's always touching you...those little knuckle-rubs to your head, the face patting..."  
  
"That's just the kind of guy he is."  
  
"Not with anyone else it's not, he's only touchy feely with you...and forget about any concept of personal space, it just doesn't exist between the two of you. You *must* have noticed, surely?"  
  
"No, I..."  
  
"What, you didn't notice that he hates it when you start to flirt with anyone else? He does that teeth grinding thing, in fact, he's probably doing it right now if he knows you're down here with me. How could you not see this, Blair? Is he different when you're at home?"  
  
"Uhm, no, not really. That's pretty much how he is all the time."  
  
"Well then."   
  
"Look, Darla, I...look...sorry, I have to go, I'll...uhm...bye."   
  
Blair took off at a near run, his emotions in turmoil. Could she be right? No, not possible, he was totally sure he had never thought of Jim in that way. They were friends, sure, really close friends...best friends, but that was all. She *had* to be wrong.  
  
He had been walking blindly and was shocked to find himself outside the door to the major crimes bullpen. This wasn't where he'd intended to be, he wanted to be alone, he wanted a nice quiet corner where he could sort out his chaotic thoughts in peace. The last thing he needed was to be confronted by the object of his confusion, and yet here he was, pressed up against the glass, staring at Jim.  
  
He studied his friend with newly opened eyes. Was he hot? Square jaw, strong chiselled features, perfectly proportioned body, piercing blue eyes, and that rare, sweet smile. All in all the ideal representation of the strong, silent romantic hero. So, was he hot? Hell, yeah.  
  
As he continued his inventory, he realised that Darla was at least right about one thing, Jim *was* doing the teeth grinding thing. Damn, was that relevant? Did the fact that he thought Jim was hot have to be relevant? Did he want any of this to be relevant? Oh man, this was so confusing.  
  
After all, just noticing that another guy was hot didn't *have* to mean that you wanted to leap right into bed with him, did it? Lots of guys were hot, Rafe for instance, he was really good looking, not like Jim obviously, no, a lot of Rafe's appeal was the presentation...the sharp suits and perfectly styled hair, whereas Jim could wear only a towel and still...okay, bad example.   
  
So maybe he was a *little* attracted to Jim, but nothing he couldn't handle, or ignore. Nothing had to change between them, they could just carry on as if nothing...oh. Blair stared back at Jim who had chosen that moment to look up from the muddle of papers on his desk and acknowledge his partner's return. He didn't wave, or even really smile, it was more a barely there relaxation...an unconscious release of tension. It was only a moment, but it was long enough to tip Blair's world off its axis.   
  
Darla was right, about everything. Wasn't there a saying...a proverb or something...'there are none so blind as those who will not see.' And wasn't *that* the truth.  
  
This was no mild attraction, no brief flirtation to while away a bored evening, over before the sun rose. This was the real deal...true love, sickness, health and till death us do part. All he had to do now was let Jim in on the secret. Oh joy.   
  
***  
  
Jim slapped his gasping partner on the back with a laugh. "C'mon Chief, deep breath."  
  
"Okay, okay, I'm breathing, you can stop beating up on me now."  
  
"That's gratitude after I save you from choking."  
  
"I wasn't choking, just a little oxygen deprived."  
  
"You should try not talking for a nanosecond. You were starting to turn blue there. I've never known anyone who could talk so long and so fast and still say so little...you should go into politics"  
  
"Funny Jim, real funny." Blair dropped his keys in the basket, sighing. Ever since his epiphany in the bullpen it was as if he had developed a faulty connection somewhere between his brain and his mouth. Every stray thought, every inconsequential scrap of information, no matter how trivial, was instantly given voice, and then his embarrassment would lead him to attempt clarification, which in turn would produce further embarrassment, and hence more babbling. It was a nightmare, and it could only get worse since Jim was guaranteed to want to know what was bothering him.   
  
"Something bothering you, Chief?"  
  
Oh no, I just today realised that I'm in love with you, but other than that I'm fine. "I'm fine, Jim."  
  
"Sure you are, that's why your heart is leaping around like a sack full of rabbits. In fact, you've been jumpy all afternoon, so spill, what's been bugging you."  
  
"Jim, getting you to talk about anything is harder than getting the toothpaste back into the tube, how come you suddenly want to talk *now*?"  
  
"Because now *you're* the one who's going to have to do the talking, all I have to do is listen...that I have no problem with."  
  
And wasn't it typical of Jim to spot the flaw in his argument, and what's more, he was just stubborn enough to force the issue too, so, the only question was, whether to tell him the absolute truth, or some more palatable version, something he could easily repress if he didn't like what he heard.  
  
Blair turned to his friend, decision made. Keeping something of this magnitude from Jim was simply not an option...his obfuscation skills might be good, but not that good. So, the absolute truth it was.  
  
Desperately hoping that Jim would at least appreciate his honesty, he took a deep breath to calm his nerves, then launched into his explanation.  
  
"The thing is, Jim...uh...see, I was thinking...uh...the thing is...have you ever thought...there's this thing, and maybe we should..."  
  
"Blair!"  
  
"Huh, did you have something you wanted to share too, Jim?"  
  
"The thing, Chief, tell me about this *thing*."  
  
"Oh, yes, right...the thing. Uhm..."  
  
"Come on, spit it out...how bad can it be?"  
  
"I don't know, see, that's the thing, it could be very, very bad, then again, it could be really, really good...or maybe even some point in between. I honestly have no idea, and no frame of reference to judge from...so you see my problem?"  
  
"Sandburg, I have no clue what you're talking about, but from what I can see, the best solution to your *problem* is to get to the damn point."   
  
Huh, easy for him to say. "Easy for you to say. If you knew what the point was, you might not be so keen to get to it."  
  
"God, *please* just tell me what you're talking about...cryptic is really not my thing."  
  
"I'm trying, but you keep interrupting...a little patience would help me a whole lot, man"  
  
"So now it's *my* fault you're incapable of forming a coherent sentence?"  
  
"Give me a beak, Jim, this is hard for me. Okay, look, I need you to promise me something before I start."  
  
"Fine, whatever."  
  
"Jim, please, this is important."  
  
"Sorry, what is it you want me to do?"  
  
"I need for you to hear me out before you say anything."  
  
"I can do that."  
  
"And to be open to new possibilities."  
  
"Oh god, I'm not going to like this, am I?"  
  
"I don't know, Jim. Knowing how resistant you are to change..."  
  
"That's not fair, just because I like a little order in my life you think I'm incapable of being spontaneous. I can be spontaneous...within reason of course."  
  
"Sure you can, Jim, you're a real wacky guy."  
  
"Well, I let you move into the loft, didn't I?"  
  
"Yes, you did, and funny you should mention that. I've been here quite awhile now, and..."  
  
"Is that what this is about, you moving out?"  
  
"You want me to move out?"  
  
"Of course not, why would I want you to move out?"  
  
"I don't know...you brought it up."  
  
"I thought *you* wanted to move out."  
  
"I don't, not at all."  
  
"Well, good, because I don't want you to either, so, problem solved."  
  
"Jim, that was never the problem."  
  
"It wasn't?"  
  
"No, not 'till you brought it up, now I'm wondering if sub-consciously it is a problem, and deep down you want me to leave."  
  
"I don't...not unless you want to leave...and even then I don't."  
  
"That's good to know."  
  
"So..."  
  
"So?"  
  
"Sandburg...the problem?"  
  
"Oh, yes, right...well, see, here's the thing. Jim..."  
  
"Thank god, at *last* we get to this mysterious *thing*."  
  
"I thought you weren't going to interrupt."  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"So...uhm...the thing is...one word, Jim, just one word..."  
  
"Did I speak?"  
  
"You were going to, I can tell."  
  
"Chief..."  
  
"Okay, okay, I'm getting there. So, you let me move in here, and you don't want me to move out...ever wonder why? Jim?"  
  
"Oh, am I allowed to talk now?"  
  
"Jim..."  
  
"No, Blair, I have never wondered why I let you disrupt my life...should I start?"  
  
"Maybe because we're friends...because you like me?"  
  
"Right now, I dislike you intensely."  
  
"I'm sensing some annoyance here."  
  
"I always knew you were smart, Einstein. Smart and evasive."  
  
"I'm not trying to be evasive I just..."  
  
"Then get to the damn point before one of us turns senile."  
  
"Well will you at least admit that we're friends?"  
  
"You're okay, I guess."  
  
"Gee, thanks."  
  
"Alright, alright, yes, we're friends, and yes, I...*quite*...like you."  
  
"At last."  
  
"Move it along, Sandburg."  
  
"Right. This afternoon, when I went down to records...uh...well, I was talking to Darla and she thought..."  
  
"So help me, Sandburg, if all this is because you struck out with some girl, I will toss your irritating butt off that balcony."  
  
"No, no, it's not that I couldn't get a date, more...uh...more that Darla assumed I wouldn't *want* a date."  
  
"Okay, I think I've missed a step here."  
  
"She was under the impression that you and I were...uh...an item."  
  
"Well, hell, half the station thinks that...so what? Why didn't you just set her straight?"  
  
"I was going to, but then I started to listen to her reasons for thinking that. And don't you think it's a little strange that you don't care about people thinking that about us...about you?"  
  
"Why should I? Everyone I care about knows the truth."  
  
"Yes, sure, but...uhm...the guys at the station...uhm...well, they are detectives after all...trained to...uhm...detect, so maybe they see something between us that we haven't...uhm...noticed...maybe."  
  
"What are you saying Sandburg, that we should be making like bunnies just because a bunch of dumb cops have jumped to the totally wrong conclusion that we've been at it all along?"  
  
"Well, I wouldn't have put it quite like that."  
  
"So how would you put it...and don't go starting up with that damn *thing* again."  
  
"But this really *is* the thing, Jim. I think maybe all those people who think we're an us might have a point."  
  
"What! Have you lost your mind?"  
  
"No, really, Jim, think about it for a minute. We're the last two people you would expect to ever be friends, but we totally are...even *you* we're willing to concede that point."  
  
"Friends, yeah, but..."  
  
"We live together, we eat together, we spend almost all our free time together...more than most married couples even, and Jim, we're always in each other's personal space, and you're always touching me, teasing and..."  
  
"I am not...I do *not* always touch you, this is insane. I don't know what bug you have up you're ass Sandburg, but you better stop this nonsense right now. Just where do you get off, accusing me of impropriety, what right..."  
  
"No! No, Jim, god, I never meant anything like that. Please, I just meant, you know, the way you are with me is not like how you are with anyone else, and the same goes for me with you. I never meant to imply that there was anything wrong with it...not at all...I like it. Jim, haven't you *ever* wondered..."  
  
"No I have *not*...there's nothing to wonder about...we're friends and that's it...I don't want to hear another word of this...this..."   
  
"This what, Jim? All I'm asking is that you're honest with yourself about us..."  
  
"There *is* no *us*. Where the hell is all this coming from anyway, why now, all of a sudden, do you want to change everything? You were fine at breakfast."  
  
"I got to thinking about what Darla was saying about how...connected we are, and I realised that I really care for you...that I love you. Not that that was anything new, I've known I loved you for awhile, but I just always assumed that it was like a brother or something, but..."  
  
"Well, sure, like a brother, maybe, but..."  
  
"But I was wrong, after all, how would I know, I never *had* a brother, but I'm pretty sure if I did I wouldn't think he was way hot, with a body to die for, and just thinking of him in one of those itty bitty little towels wouldn't make me want to..."  
  
"Okay, that's it, I've had all I'm going to take of this garbage. Years I've had to put up with you're crazy ass ideas, obviously I've indulged you so much you think it's okay to take liberties with me, but that ends now. I can't believe you could think I would stand for you calling me a fag. What the hell did you..."  
  
"No, Jim, this is all wrong... I never..."  
  
"You did, I heard you."  
  
"No..."  
  
"What else would you call it, accusing me of flaunting my body at you...making comments about what I choose to wear in the privacy of my own home, and just out of a shower?"  
  
"Well, Jim, you do kind of..."  
  
"No-one asked you to look, in fact, if I'd have known you were looking like *that* I would have worn more...a bigger towel at least. You're a guy, Sandburg, you're not supposed to notice stuff like that."  
  
"It's kind of hard to miss, man, I'm telling you..."  
  
"No, don't tell me another thing. Every word that comes out of you're mouth just makes it worse. I have no idea what to think about all this, and right now, I swear, I'm so mad I could seriously hurt you if you don't stop this, and that's not something I want to be feeling. I have to get out of here before I...I have to go."  
  
"Jim, I'm sorry, please...Jim!"  
  
Blair stared at the still shuddering door, stunned by how quickly his life had gone to hell. He sank miserably onto the coffee table, hands clasped tight between trembling knees, beginning the long vigil which would determine whether he still had a home, a Sentinel, and most importantly, a friend.  
  
***  
  
The door opened to almost total darkness, the evening shadows having long given way to the starless night. Jim tossed his keys into the basket with unerring accuracy, his sentinel sight instantly compensating for the lack of light. Even so, it was a moment before he noticed the huddled figure staring wordlessly at him.  
  
"Blair?" He cleared his throat nervously at the lack of response. "Come on Buddy, you're scaring me here...talk to me."  
  
"I'm still you're buddy then?"  
  
"Yes, sure, 'course you are...why wouldn't you be?"  
  
"You didn't seem too sure when you walked out on me eight hours ago."  
  
"Yes, well, you took me by surprise."  
  
"Kind of an understatement, don't you think?"  
  
"Don't drag it all up again, Blair."  
  
"Blair again, that's twice in one minute...my, you are walking on eggshells, aren't you?"  
  
"I have no idea what you're talking about. It's cold in here, you shouldn't have waited up."  
  
"I wanted to be ready in case I had to pack tonight."  
  
"I told you before, I don't want you to leave."  
  
"Even knowing how I feel about you?"  
  
"I'm prepared to forget about tonight, and I think you should too. We can just go an as we were before."  
  
"Can you do that Jim, just ignore what you can't deal with?"  
  
"I don't see that we have much choice, not if we want to continue as friends."  
  
"Well, I guess you always were an expert at repression."  
  
"Blair, please, I'm doing the best I can."  
  
"I know, I'm sorry, only I'd hoped...no, sorry, you're right, that's clearly the best option."  
  
"Good, that's settled then...we never mention any of this again. I'm going to bed, and you should do the same, you'll feel better after you get some sleep. Night."  
  
"Night, Jim." Blair sighed, dropping his head into his hands. It could have been worse after all...he could be walking the streets this very minute, searching for a new place to live. How important could it be that Jim had failed to call him 'Chief' even once? It was only a nickname after all; its lack was nothing to get upset about. Best all round not to think about all he had hoped to gain tonight, better by far to be grateful for not losing what he had. After all, Jim hadn't loved him before, and he didn't love him now, so nothing really had changed...except that he was now aware of his deepest desires, and that they were never going to be realised.  
  
He shivered in the chill of the room, knowing how unlikely it was that Jim would be able to carry on as normal, knowing that his best friend and roommate was in love with him, and wondering how he himself could live with the knowledge of his denied emotions. But he would try, because the prospect of being without Jim was unthinkable. Maybe if they both tried really hard, their friendship would survive. Who knew? Anything was possible.  
  
***The End*** 


End file.
